


Kismet with a Side of Fries

by francoeurs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Brief mention of canon-typical violence (past), Brief mention of dog fighting (past), Cats, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Food, Friendship, Happy Ending, Mentions of Jaime/Cersei (past), Mutual Pining, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/francoeurs/pseuds/francoeurs
Summary: “You’re the last person I expected to see in here,” a very familiar voice interrupted her pity party. “Bad night?”Oh, no. Brienne looked up and froze with her burger halfway to her open mouth. A glob of sauce landed on her tray with an annoyingly loudplop.Jaime Lannister — her co-worker, friend, and possibly the love of her life — was standing next to her table, holding his own loaded tray and looking almost as surprised as she felt.





	Kismet with a Side of Fries

Brienne was sitting alone in a McDonald's at one in the morning, grumpily stuffing her face with artery-clogging rubbish and wearing an outrageously expensive dress with a pair of old trainers that were starting to fall apart.

Not her finest hour.

“The blue makes your eyes pop!” the middle-aged saleswoman at the clothing store had gushed. “Blimey, look at those legs!”

Brienne had been so uncomfortable and eager to leave at that point, she would have easily agreed to buy the tackiest pink silk dress in the world if it had meant she could go home.

She hated shopping for clothes.

She didn’t hate dresses, but she hated the way she looked in them (“ _like a sow in silk!”_ _the_ _memory of Connington’s cruel words mocked her_ ).

She hated fast food even more.

And yet, here she was, lonely and annoyed and punishing herself as though her day hadn’t been terrible enough already.

The young cashier was watching her with a bored look on his face. Not unlike Brienne’s cat had been doing twenty minutes earlier, judging her silently with those cool blue eyes of hers. The spoiled creature could probably smell the shame and self-disgust on her.

Brienne took an unnecessarily large bite of her double cheeseburger and stared back at the young man until he looked away, shifting nervously on his feet. He pretended to be busy with the cash register, then looked up gratefully when the door opened and another customer came in.

Brienne turned her head to the window. From this spot, she had a perfect view of the dumpsters outside. How appropriate.

She chewed her food mechanically, not really tasting it. Maybe it was for the best. What on earth had possessed her to come here? She didn’t even like junk food. Now she was upset _and_ a tad queasy.

A scruffy orange cat jumped on top of one of the dumpsters and sat down facing Brienne. Its round, yellow eyes glinted in the darkness as they assessed her.

It was like the universe was laughing at her.

“You’re the last person I expected to see in here,” a very familiar voice interrupted her pity party. “Bad night?”

 _Oh, no._ Brienne looked up and froze with her burger halfway to her open mouth. A glob of sauce landed on her tray with an annoyingly loud _plop_.

Jaime Lannister — her co-worker, friend, and possibly the love of her life — was standing next to her table, holding his own loaded tray and looking almost as surprised as she felt.

The universe WAS laughing at her.

Snapping her mouth shut, she lowered her burger and self-consciously tugged the hem of her dress down in a futile effort to cover her legs. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicked down, then back up, almost too fast for her to see. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were bright pink. Brienne hadn’t realised it was that cold outside, but she’d admittedly been distracted on her walk here.

Jaime blew out a breath and licked his lips before speaking again. “Do you mind...?” he asked, pointing his right arm at the empty seat in front of her.

He wasn’t wearing his prosthetic hand, she noticed with a bit of a shock. She hadn’t seen him without it since his stay in the hospital, almost two years ago.

She still remembered her first visit vividly. She’d stiffly handed him a bag filled with his favourite candy bars and snacks, and then he’d made her stay and watch some flowery early afternoon program with him. He’d been high as a kite on morphine and had kept referring to Brienne as his “best friend” every time a nurse or doctor had come into the room.

They’d been barely more than co-workers at that point, but he’d lost his hand because of her, so Brienne had smiled and kept her mouth shut, guilt eating at her insides like acid.

An unhinged, disgruntled client on bail had been waiting for her in the car park after work one evening. He’d sicced one of his fight dogs on her as soon as he’d spotted her. Ironically, his dogs and his cruel treatment of them had been the very reason she’d refused to represent him. Brienne had thought they’d all been taken away by police, but clearly, the maniac had had at least one more hidden away somewhere.

The huge, snarling dog had run straight for her and she’d had nothing but her keys and briefcase to defend herself with. It had been just about to jump on her when Jaime had appeared out of nowhere and put himself between her and the animal. And then... well.

By the time the police had found Vargo Hoat, months later, she and Jaime really had become quite close friends.

Brienne shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Um, go ahead.” She gestured to the chair.

He sat down. “Thanks,” he said, setting his tray down on the table and unwrapping his food.  He didn’t bother taking his jacket off.

Brienne nodded, eyes dropping to his meal. One burger, one large fry, one small... milkshake? But no straw. Strange. Perhaps he’d forgotten to grab one.

“You look nice,” Jaime commented without looking at her. He cleared his throat. “Blue’s a good colour on you.”

“Huh?” Brienne blinked and glanced down at herself. She cringed and brushed white cat fur from her dark blue dress as embarrassment roared inside her. “Oh. I—thank you.” He couldn’t possibly mean that, but it was nice of him to try to make her feel better when she was obviously miserable.

“You’re welcome,” Jaime said softly. He took a bite of his burger and made a horrible face. “Ugh, damn it, I said no pickles,” he complained through a mouthful of food. He glared at the cashier over his shoulder, but the young man’s attention was focused on his phone.

Brienne rolled her eyes and dutifully extended her hand. Jaime picked the sauce-covered pickle slices off his burger and put them in her waiting hand, wrinkling his nose.

She dropped them on her tray and wiped her hand with a napkin, biting back a smile when he asked for a few sips of her Coke to wash the taste away.

“You have your own drink,” she pointed out, but she passed him the Coke anyway.

“It’s not for drinking,” he said, but didn't elaborate. Brienne gave him a puzzled look.

“So, what flavour of ‘bad’ was your night, exactly?” Jaime asked between sips. “Do you need me to give you a hug?”

 _Yes_. “No.”

“That’s too bad. I give great hugs.”

Longing tugged at her. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He heaved a little sigh, almost inaudible, and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, your night must have been truly horrid if you’re willingly eating the food here. Before tonight, the unhealthiest thing I’d seen you eat was a chocolate-covered granola bar. Excuse me—an _organic_ chocolate-covered granola bar.”

“I eat chips on occasion,” she said, defensive. “Real chips.” She held up a sad, skinny fry and gave it a shake. “These are not chips. I’m not sure these are even food,” she said before biting the fry in half.

“Food snob,” he teased. “So what brought you here?”

She huffed and rubbed the back of her neck, hoping to release some of the tension there. "Bad date," she muttered. She’d let Sansa — a legal intern and the daughter of a judge Brienne knew well — arrange a blind date for her. He was one of her older brothers’ friends, apparently.

After weeks of pestering, Brienne had finally agreed. She couldn’t pine after her best friend forever. Well, she definitely could, but she should at least try and see what was out there, what her actual options were. Because no, the shelter cat she’d adopted on an emotional whim half a year ago definitely did not count.

Now that she’d met one of her ‘options’, she didn’t know if she should be offended or not. She knew she was no prize, but really? Brienne couldn’t say it didn’t sting a little.

Maybe a cat really was the best she could hope for. A least she liked the cat. She stared haughtily at Brienne, but she never leered or tried to hurt her feelings on purpose.

Jaime went rigid in his seat, his expression suddenly closed off. “Ah. I didn’t know you were dating.”

“Neither did I. Life is full of surprises,” she deadpanned, then sighed. “Anyway, I kept replaying the whole thing in my head after I got home, and my cat was being a pest. I needed fresh air.” Brienne looked down at the ridiculous amount of greasy food on the table and grimaced slightly. “And a palate cleanser, I suppose. Unfortunately, this was the only available option at this hour.”

Jaime’s jaw worked. “How bad _was_ that date?” His voice had a sharp edge to it.

Brienne blinked and dropped her hand from her neck. “Thirty minutes into it, he point blank told me he wanted to make ‘great big monster babies’ with me.” The first thirty minutes hadn’t been much better.

“Lovely.” Jaime looked utterly repulsed, but a bit of the tension eased from his face and shoulders. His eyes softened. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’ve dealt with my fair share of boorish men before.” She absently picked up her burger and took a bite. “Why are _you_ here?” She asked, eager to change the subject.

"Bad breakup,” he answered quickly, as if he’d been dying to tell her since the moment it happened.

Brienne almost choked on her food.

“ _What_?” she asked, louder than she had intended.

Jaime jerked in surprise, wide-eyed.

Her face was on fire. She dug her nails into her palm and closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, I meant... I _mean_ , I’m sorry,” she stammered. “That... that happened.” She eyed her half empty Coke grimly, wondering if it would be possible to drown herself in it.

She knew about his... unusual and disturbing relationship with his sister. Jaime had drunk dialled her one night, almost a year ago. He had been in a very melancholy and very sharing mood, much to his horror the next day at work. He’d only started to calm down after she’d assured him repeatedly that no, she didn’t hate him, and no, she would not tell anyone, and yes, they were still friends.

But secretly, she’d struggled to come to terms with that revelation. Brienne had eventually resolved to think about it as little as possible, because that was all she could do. She cared about Jaime and wanted him in her life. That hadn’t changed. _He_ hadn’t changed.

Jaime took a few seconds to regroup, then waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Truly. We were done for months. A year, even. I only made it official tonight.” He picked at his fries and looked at her for a long moment. “I’m _more_ than ready to move on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable, and it tore at her heart.

Brienne offered him a wan smile.

She was happy for him. So, so very happy. She didn’t need to see them together to know that their relationship had been toxic, and for more than the obvious reason. She’d seen what it had been doing to him, the toll it had been taking on his life and mental health.

So yes, she was happy. Ecstatic, even.

But a small, selfish, ugly part of Brienne...

Before—sometimes—she’d been able to forget that his heart was taken. She’d never even met his sister, so it was easy enough. Out of sight, out of mind.

Now she would probably have to actually _see_ him date women. Or men. Anyone. She didn’t even know. It didn’t matter; it would hurt all the same. It would be like Renly all over again, except Jaime was... more. She didn’t know if she would be able to piece her heart back together this time.

“We hadn’t seen each other in weeks before tonight, but my decision to break things off with her still wasn’t well-received,” Jaime continued with a grimace, oblivious to Brienne’s inner turmoil. “After the hour I just endured, I feel I’ve earned the right to scarf down greasy food in the middle of the night,” he said, biting into a fry.

Brienne nodded and swallowed hard, her mind still whirring. She took a good long look at him. He looked a bit tired, but he also looked... good. He always did, but he seemed happier now. Lighter.

“Why end it tonight? After all this time?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal a question.

Jaime stared at her thoughtfully for a few moments and worried his lower lip.

“I dreamed of someone,” he eventually said, and left it at that.

Brienne nibbled on a fry. Maybe he’d dreamed of his father’s petite, perky blonde receptionist. Her dimpled smiles were always brighter when Jaime was around. Or maybe it had been that tall, black-haired beauty who worked in the office next to his. She was always making passes at him, her charming accent melting around each suggestive word like ice cream in the sun. How could he not have noticed? Brienne didn’t even swing that way, and even she felt a little hot under the collar sometimes. Some people were just that beautiful.

Like Jaime.

 _Beautiful_ _people gravitate towards each other._ “So, does this mean you’ll stop ignoring every single person who tries to, um...” She cleared her throat. “Get to know you?”

Jaime’s gaze grew unnervingly intense. “I didn’t ignore _you_ ,” he pointed out.

“Well, no, but I don’t count.”

He leaned back in his seat and narrowed his eyes as if she'd offended him on some deep level. “Why the hell not?”

“I wasn’t talking about... I meant people who—" She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. And for the record, _I_ did not try to ‘get to know you’. You insulted me for a few weeks, and then you started pestering me until I agreed to eat lunch with you every day and occasionally spend time with you outside of work. You basically annoyed me into friendship.”

He pulled the plastic top off his milkshake. “One of my many talents.”

“How many friends do you have?”

He chuckled and pointed a fry at her. “Touché.”

“Then again, you did risk your life for me after that rocky beginning,” she said quietly after a moment's silence. She observed his face through her lashes, suddenly shy. “That was quite the smooth move, I have to admit.”

Jaime flashed a cheeky grin and winked.

She almost blushed, but he saved her the embarrassment when he _dipped his fry in his vanilla milkshake_ and _put it in his mouth_.

Brienne’s jaw dropped open in horror. "You monster."

Jaime swallowed and looked her straight in the eye as he slowly and defiantly sucked the grease and salt off his fingers. Brienne nibbled the inside of her lip and fought to keep her eyes on his, determined to ignore the heat pooling in her belly. There were more important things at hand.

Like the fact that the man she was in love with ate like a bloody animal.

"Have you ever tried it?" he asked.

Brienne let her face speak for her.

“Really? Not even once?”

Her mouth turned down in distaste. "I’ve seen people talk about it online, but I thought it was one of those made up things no one actually does in real life. Like eating Tide Pods."

Jaime shook his head sadly. "Oh, Brienne. The Tide Pods Challenge was unfortunately very real.” He patted her hand. “But it's sweet that you still have so much faith in humanity, considering what we do for a living."

Brienne didn't have time to react to that before he dipped another fry in the thick milkshake — _vile_ — and leaned across the table to wave it under her nose.

She recoiled.

He didn't let that deter him. "I'll keep doing this until you try it. You know how annoying I can be."

"What if I just kicked your chair to the floor? I have very strong legs.”

His expression froze for a couple of seconds. His eyes flicked to the table, as if he were trying to see through it.

“I’m sure you do,” he replied, his voice hoarser than usual. He cleared his throat. “But you're much too honourable to do such a thing." He waved the fry again. "Come on."

Brienne scowled and took the fry from him instead, holding it disdainfully between her thumb and forefinger. She held her breath and popped it into her mouth, screwing her eyes shut as she chewed.

 _Damn it_. It was delicious.

When she opened her eyes, she caught Jaime staring at her lips. Did she have food on her face? She picked up a napkin and self-consciously wiped her mouth.

Jaime blinked rapidly and dragged in a long breath. He met her eyes again. "Well?" he prompted.

She kept her face carefully blank and gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's fine."

He chortled. “Please. You loved it. We’ve finally found a truly trashy junk food even a health-obsessed party pooper like you can’t resist,” he said in an insufferably smug tone. “That expressive, earnest face of yours can't hide anything."

God, she hoped that wasn’t true.

Brienne sipped her Coke through the straw, glaring at Jaime the whole time.

He was not impressed. "You can't look intimidating when you're drinking through a straw. It’s like trying to scare someone while applying chapstick. Impossible." He pushed his milkshake to the middle of the table. "Here, we can share."

“No, thank you.”

He shook his head in exasperation, then shifted in his chair and ate more fries. His knee bumped her bare leg under the table and stayed there. Brienne chanced a quick glance at his face, but it gave nothing away.

She didn’t move her leg.

A group of loud teenagers entered the restaurant, and Jaime instinctively turned his head towards the sound.

Brienne quickly used the opportunity to dip one of her fries in the milkshake and eat it.

"I saw that," he drawled. "You’re many things, but stealthy isn’t one of them."

Brienne felt her cheeks grow warm as she chewed. "I hate you."

Jaime shifted his gaze back to her. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. "No, you don't. You think I'm delightful."

"Do I?" she asked blandly.

"Of course. You always did. Even before we became friends, we were... what’s that word you kids use?” He made a vague gesture with his right arm. “Frenemies?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm twenty-eight." She paused. "And yes, that’s the word, and it sounds bloody ridiculous coming out of your posh, middle-aged mouth, so please don’t ever call us that again. We're not characters in an anime or young adult novel."

Jaime’s look of pure affront brought Brienne perilously close to laughter. "I'm not middle-aged.”

"Close enough."

“I’m barely in my forties.”

Brienne raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

He leaned forwards and lowered his voice enticingly. “And believe me, I’m well aware that you’re not a kid.” Then his shoulders sagged and his expression grew forlorn. “I guess you’re right. I’m just old.”

Brienne felt a twinge of remorse. She put her hand on his forearm, hesitant. “You’re not old. You’re barely forty.”

Just like that, his sombre look fell away and his eyes lit up. “Ha!”

“Oh, piss off.” Brienne removed her hand from his arm and gave his shin a little kick, ducking her head to hide her smile.

Jaime snorted and stole another sip of her Coke. He put the cup down, then went still, staring at her for an unusual amount of time. His brow wrinkled in thought.

Brienne picked at her cheeseburger and tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.

Finally, Jaime blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever trance-like state he’d fallen in. He nudged her foot with his. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

"You don't really hate me, do you?"

Brienne almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself when she noticed his hesitant tone. It wasn’t like him to sound so insecure. Over a flippant, obviously untrue comment, no less. Was he taking the piss again?

She fixed him with a dubious look. “Of course not. Not anymore. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I did.”

He wilted a fraction at her words. “But you used to. Hate me.” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “Was I that horrible to you?"

Brienne shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. "You called me a ‘great beast of a woman’ on the day we met," she reminded him quietly.

He winced and lowered his eyes. "I did, didn't I?"

"And then you made fun me every chance you got."

“After those first few days, I only meant to tease you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. "For someone who’s close to being middle-aged,” he threw her a wry look. “I’m no good at talking to women.”

 _Women_. He said it like he saw her as one. Not just a mate. “Right.”

He reached over the table and took her hand in his. His skin was warm and soft. "Well, I like you. You can be a real pain in the arse, but I like you _a lot_. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t."

Brienne’s hand twitched in his. "Why?"

He blinked. “Why am I sorry...?”

“Why do you like me?” She regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth, but she had to know.  She’d always wondered. She wasn’t pretty or witty or smarter than anyone else at work. She’d been told many times that she was too serious, too boring, too straight-laced. The list went on. Why did he seek her company? He didn’t genuinely like many people outside of his family, come to think of it. He hadn’t seemed to like her either, at first.

What had changed? Why her?

His eye softened. He looked down at the table, where their hands were still clasped. "You’re... you’re good. Genuinely good. And you're stubborn as a mule, which drives me up the wall sometimes, but really, I love that you never give up on the things you believe in.” His lips twitched, one corner curling up.  “And I love your dry, deadpan sense of humour. It’s subtle and easy to miss, but now I know you well enough to notice and appreciate it.”

She gaped for a few seconds before recovering. "I—I've never been funny." Her nanny growing up had made sure Brienne would never forget it.

His eyebrows shot up in mock offence. "Are you calling me a liar?"

“I’m questioning your judgement, that’s all.”

“I'll have you know I've always been an excellent judge of character with impeccable taste.” His smile dimmed then, his eyes clouding. He released her hand and looked away. “With a few notable exceptions.”

“All right,” she said softly, sensing the change in his mood.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Brienne sneaked glances at him whenever she could. His expression was contemplative, but he didn’t seem upset.

She forced her attention back to her food.

“So, what are you planning to do now?” Jaime asked when they were both done eating. He stood up and stacked their trays, then headed to the rubbish bins.

Brienne wiped her hands with her last clean napkin and grabbed her jacket before following him.

“Go home and watch crime documentaries until I either fall asleep or need to start looking for caffeine.” She put her jacket on. “I’m babysitting Pod in the morning. He wants us to go to the park and play knights with the plastic swords and shields his foster parents gave him for Christmas.”

Jaime opened the exit door for her. “That’s sweet. They’re your downstairs neighbours, right?” He put his hand on the small of her back and left it there until they reached his car.

Brienne hummed an affirmation.

Jaime looked around the dimly lit car park and frowned. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked. I only live ten minutes from here.”

“Right.” He shifted on his feet, looking troubled. “I didn’t know that. I’ve never been to your flat.”

Brienne’s breath hitched. She widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t?”

She knew he hadn’t.

He jingled his keys. “No. Never. You’ve been to my home a few times, but I’ve never been to yours. Are you a hoarder or something?” he asked lightly, but there was no missing the note of hurt in his voice.

A stab of guilt pierced her belly. She shook her head, and a strand of hair fell in front of her face. “No, not a hoarder,” she said, her words quiet and apologetic.

It was stupid, really. Early on, when she’d started to... feel things, she’d decided it would be easier to deal with it if she kept him at a bit of a distance. If she only saw him outside of her home. She was afraid he would _fit_ there, in her private life, her personal space. She was afraid it would cause her more pain in the long run.

So she’d kept him out.

Fat lot of good that did. She was still hurting, and now she’d inadvertently hurt his feelings too.

Jaime stuffed his keys in his pocket, then stepped closer to her and tucked her hair back in place. His knuckles brushed the curve of her ear before falling away.

Brienne wrapped her arms around her chest, her face flushing hot despite the cold.

“Would you...” he trailed off, licking his lips as he studied her face.

She held her breath. "What?”

His hand hovered over her arm for a moment, then dropped to his side. “Would you mind some company while you watch those... ah, crime documentaries? I don’t fancy going back to my empty house.” Jaime bit his lip, then released it. “Running into you was unexpected, but it was by far the best part of my night. I’m not ready to let you go quite yet.”

Warm happiness blossomed in Brienne’s chest at his casual admission.

“Or at least let me give you a lift? I know you can take care of yourself,” he added quickly, “but humour me, please. It’s late, and I don’t want to spend the entire drive home worrying and wondering if the man who so charmingly offered to breed you on your first date is still lurking around,” he said in a joking tone, but his face was serious.

Brienne suppressed a shudder at the thought. Then she thought of her cold, empty flat. She imagined Jaime sitting on her couch. With her.

And just like that, her resolve crumbled.

He would start dating soon. He’d said it himself; he was more than ready to move on. He could not have been clearer if he’d tried. This was her first and maybe last chance to have him all to herself, even if it was only to watch grim, terribly unromantic documentaries.

She scuffed her shoe against the asphalt. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

Jaime’s face seemed to light up from within. He answered her question by unlocking the car with two quick beeps.

 

·♡·♡·♡·

 

_Sapphire flattened her ears as she watched her human and the male who had followed her home. The room was dark; the flat rectangle with moving shapes was the only source of light._

_After they’d sat down and made themselves comfortable, the male had kept sneaking glances at Sapphire’s human and moving closer to her, little by little, until their sides had been touching. His furless paw had covered one of hers, carefully, tentatively, as if he’d been afraid of her reaction._

_Sapphire had kept a watchful eye on him, waiting for her human to swat and hiss at him for his presumption._

_Then the male had leaned his head forward and rumbled something into her head fur. Her human had turned her head slowly to look at him, her eyes round and shiny. Her mouth had been half-open, ready to bite, and Sapphire had known the moment she’d been waiting for was imminent._

_Sapphire had been wrong._

_Several heartbeats passed. Her human was now sitting on top of the male, her blunt claws digging into his short head fur. She pressed her mouth against his and made a weak noise, licking into his mouth and pressing her body against his. The male growled in response and clawed at her back. He moved his mouth to one of her odd, round ears and Sapphire’s human whimpered._

_Was he hurting her?_

_No. Her human was young and big and strong. The male was older and big, but not as big as she was. He was also missing a paw. Her human could_ _beat him in a fight, if it came to that. She was already on top of him,_ _asserting her dominance. Good._

_Sapphire huffed a small sigh of resignation. All she had wanted was to take a nap on the long, soft chair, but they were play-fighting in her favourite spot. She always made sure to rub her head and paws there, to mark it with her scent, but the rude humans didn’t care._

_She flicked her tail in annoyance and made her way to her human’s sleeping nest—her second favourite spot in their home._

_Surely, her human wouldn’t invite this strange male into her safe den. Only Sapphire had ever been allowed in the nest._

.

.

.

_Sapphire had only just fallen asleep when she was very rudely awoken and proven wrong yet again._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been super sick with the flu for four days. I got bored and I wanted to write, but I didn’t want to touch my Canon ‘Verse WIP and accidentally ruin it, so I wrote this instead.
> 
> So, uh, I'm really sorry if it was awful. It seemed okay-ish to me when I was rereading it for like the tenth time, but I have a fever, so I’m not sure my brain can be trusted right now.
> 
> Anyway, rereading/editing it was making my headache 10x worse, and I couldn’t leave it on my computer and not TOUCH it, so I decided to just post it and hope for the best. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ Hopefully it won’t make me want to hide in shame when I finally start feeling better and realize writing this wasn’t a fever dream after all.


End file.
